


Let him go.

by Eulalia_writer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Angst, Angst and Feels, Hurt John Watson, Hurt Sherlock, I Tried, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Possessive Sherlock, Post-Wedding, Sad, Sad John Watson, Sad Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, What Was I Thinking?, partial songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8176328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eulalia_writer/pseuds/Eulalia_writer
Summary: John decided to go back to Baker Street to ... he doesn't even know why. Sherlock is there, and suddenly John realizes that those days without his doctor had been horrible for the consulting detective. But he can't change what has happened.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking for inspiration on the net and I found a song called "Twin size mattress". This story happened when I read a really sad line of the lyric.  
> “With tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay / You said “Hey man, I love you, but no fucking way”.”  
> In case you want to look for the song, it's right above the quote.

 

_**“With tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay** _

_**You said “Hey man, I love you, but no fucking way”.”** _

 

"John, please, don't go." his voice betrayed his pure anxiety, although he was trying to hide it.

"I'm married now, Sherlock. She is pregnant. I must go." the blond man looked at him from the doorway of what had been their apartment for years, a foot on the landing, but no intention to move: they had shared so much between those walls, the walls they used to call _home_.

What had he hoped to obtain, going back there? His honeymoon had just ended, Mary was waiting for him at home, and then there would have been the baby to take care of ... that was his life now: no more cases, no more crazy races in the night trying to escape criminals, no more bizarre experiments in the kitchen. _No more Sherlock Holmes_ ... he shouldn't have gotten back there, _there was nothing left for him in that place_.

Let his eyes wandered through the room, disheveled as usual, and his gaze met his old chair still in its place. Sherlock stared motionless, clinging to the table in the living room as if trying to avoid a disastrous fall, as if his legs were devoid of forces, but the doctor could not determine if it was because of his state of physical weakness, or because of the conversation they were facing.

"You can't. You can't leave. I ... I "died" in order save you ... You asked for _one more miracle_ and _here I am!_  But you can't leave now!".

" _Christ_ , Sherlock, _are you trying to convince me that I can't leave?_ \- the anger he had repressed for weeks returned to the surface in a second as soon as he heard the detective talking about the story of his "death" - _TWO YEARS_. _It has been TWO YEARS_. Without you. I thought you were _dead_. You have no idea of what I have been through. And in spite of everything I am here, because I am a damn fool and I can't and I don't want to stay away from you. Because _I love you_ , _damn it_. Even after everything that happened. But I am married now: what kind of man would I be if I abandoned my pregnant wife? ".

The dark-haired guy had been holding the table so tight his knuckles went pale, and his eyes were red from crying, and rimmed by heavy dark circles. The blond man wondered idly how long had it been since the last time he ad slept and how many meals had avoided to end up in that physical state: his skin was pale and drawn on the bones that protruded everywhere clothes didn't manage to cover him, and a beard of at least three days hid his face. His thin lips were stained red, a sign that he had not stopped a moment to torture them with his teeth; John felt the urge to kiss him, to bring him a minimum of comfort, but a voice in his head pointed out that it would have been be only worse, when he would have left.

"I love you." he said feebly, venturing a step in his direction.

The blond man flinched slightly, although among them there was an entire room, and Sherlock froze, not wanting him to leave.

His heart was pounding and he felt his ears whistling in an incredibly irritating way, but he couldn't take his eyes off John that was still standing in the doorway.

"You love me, too." declared; his dry mouth was bothering him, but he wouldn't have let him go without a fight.

"Yes, I _do_ love you. But I have a wife now." John's voice implicitly pleading him to stop, in order not to make things even more difficult than they already were.

"Get a divorce.".

Of course he had not caught his request.

"Sherlock, the baby ..."

"We'll take care of her! - the detective stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips, his chest rose and fell frantically - Together! You and me against the rest of the world! I love you, John, I …" he vomited the words without realizing the complete lack of sense they had, and before finishing the last sentence took his hand from the table and crossed the room in two strides, stopping in front John. He only managed to whisper "I-I love you" before the forces abandoned him, and he collapsed unconscious on the floor.

When he came around, he realized that he was lying in his bed's cold blankets.

John was gone, despite the fact that Sherlock could tell exactly that he had been sitting on the mattress next to him until a few minutes before, because the sheets were still hot in the place where he'd been.

He let his gaze float around and he noticed right away a card on the nightstand, written in the soldier's messy handwriting.

_"I'll come back. But only if you manage to recover. I've ordered some Chinese food that Mrs. Hudson will let you find when you wake up. Call me when you'll be fine. -JW "._

He uttered an uncontrolled quiet sobbing, hiding his face in the pillow.

He knew what he had to do, and forcing John to go back to him would not have been fair: he took the card on which John had scrawled his new phone number and shuffled into the kitchen where, as soon as he recovered a lighter, he set it on fire.

_He would have let him go._

 

 

 


End file.
